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01' Stampin' Grounds 

and Othcp Poems 



Ol^ $tampin^ Qnounds 

and Otben Poems 



BY 

HOWARD D WIGHT SMILEY 



f^ 



MARSHALL, MICH. 

THE STATESMAN PRINTING & PUBLISFIING CO. 

1905 



«"— 



OCT 12 1905 

COPY B. 






Copyright 1905 
By HOWARD DWTGHT SMILEY 



cr 



To 
MY MOTHER 



Concerning IDtt. Smiley 

Among men of the pen there are certain par- 
allels bound to impress even the most superficial 
observer. The work of the late Ben King, of St. 
Joseph, in many ways suggests the work of How- 
ard Smiley, of Marshall and Gull lake. 

Mr. King was. an older man than Mr. Smiley, 
but throughout the verse of each of them runs a 
thread of humor, of genial optimism, of tender 
and homely sentiment. For them, "the hills were 
dearest which their childish feet had climbed the 
earliest," and the local muse inspired many of 
their best efforts. For them, too, the Book of Na- 
ture proved a cherished volume, and what they 
have had to say has less to do with the sedentary 
life than with life in the open^ — the keen, throbbing* 
existence of the Great Out-Doors, where inspira- 
tion comes at first hand. 

And what Opie Read so touchingly says of 
Ben King may not inappropriately be said of How- 
ard Smiley: "How odd a boy he was — no one un- 
derstood him. On the edge of a marsh he would 
sit during hours at a time, under the spell of the 



weird music amid the rushes. As he grew up, 
lacking the instincts that make men successful in 
business, he was pronounced a failure — not by 
those who had warmed themselves in the glow of 
his poetic nature, but by the man who believed 
that to turn over a dime and thereby make a dol- 
lar out of it, was the most gracious faculty that 
could be bestowed upon a member of the human 
family. " 

From an article in The Detroit Evening News 
of May 21, 1903, — an appreciative article that made 
Mr. Smiley many friends — the following is quoted: 

"Howard Dwig-ht Smiley, of Marshall, is destined to 
make his mark in the literary world To summer resort- 
ers familiar with Gull lake the 'Wizard of the Shack' is 
no stranu-ei", and his many friends in southern i\Iichig"an 
will reofret that he may not be able to keep open house this 
season on account of a badly crushed foot, which confines 
him to his hotel in St. Louis, Mo. 

"Mr. Smiley was born in Marshall, September 1, 1877. 
being- the son of Hon. James F. Smiley, a prominent phy- 
sician and republican politician. When but three years 
old he suffered the partial loss of his sense of hearing- as 
the result of a severe attack of scarlet fever. As a boy of 
five he entered the 'west ward' school and for ten years 
kept the teachers busy. He balked at the hig*h school be- 
cause as he puts it, 'it would have necessitated my climb- 
ing- three fiig-hts of stairs three times a day for three years 
— too much work.' During- '93 and '94 he attended Olivet 
coUeg-e and in '97 and '98 was a member. of the Art Stu- 
dents' Leag-ue of New York city. 

"On Ciiristmas day, 1898, Howard lost his mother. 
Being- released from her restraining- influence and possess- 
ed of quite a sum of insurance money, he, in company with 
Burdette F. Grant— son of Dr. A. B. Grant, of Albion, — 
went into Ontonog-an county to take up a homesteader's 
claim. It was there, in the solitary pine woods, that Smi- 
ley wrote his first poem. Early in October, 1899, while 



alone in the woods, forty miles from Houghton, he was ad- 
vised by wire of the sudden death of his father. Young- 
Grant, then a student in the Houghton School of Mines, 
had risked expulsion and ridden out with the message. 
They were delaying the funeral for him, so mounting 
Grant's tired horse, the boy started out for Houghton. 
The horse fell three times on the road, and Grant, on foot, 
reached the city first. Without rest Smiley made the long 
trip down through Wisconsin to Chicago and home over 
the Michigan Central, arriving too late for the funeral. 

"It was a sad home-coming for the boy, left almost 
alone in the world, and, while still in a dazed condition, 
he was rushed to the court house where he read and accept- 
ed his father's strange will, without realizing its meaning. 
But time and rest brought regrets when too late— the will 
had been probated and Howard will get his share when 
thirty-five years of age, if the other heirs think proper. 

"Realizing that he was nearly on his uppers, young 
Smiley, after a period spent in the mining towns of the up- 
per peninsula, returned to Gull lake and took up his abode 
in the boat house built for the Smiley cottage. This little 
house has since been his summer home and is known to all 
his friends as 'The Shack.' 

"Howard's deafness has seerningly magnified his other 
senses -he is extremely observing and is a great student of 
animal and bird life as evidenced by many of his writings. 
One of his best compositions, 'The House Next Door,' 
was written during a brief stay in Marshall, after an ab- 
sence of a year or more. The poem was published some 
time ago in The Marshall Statesman and attracted much 
attention, coupled with predictions of a brilliant career in 
the field of letters. A later production, 'Evans .An' Me 
An' Cronin,' bears out these predictions and will bring 
smiles to all of Howard's acquaintances. * * * Young 
Smiley paints most accurate word pictures in all his remi- 
niscent verse, and there is a wonderful depth of feeling ex- 
pressed in their homely simplicity. People who know Gull 
lake will appreciate his 'Springtime Ruminations' and 
'Back Again,' while those about Marshall will immediate- 
ly recognize 'The Ol' Stampin' Grounds." 

That Mr. Smiley' s best work — and this httle 
volume contains many examples of it — is prodigal 
in promise of things to come, there is no gain- 



saying. There are verses here that are little 
gems in their way — touches of humor and senti- 
ment that are certain to cHng to the mind and rise 
often to the hp. While the Wizard of the Shack 
may do even better in years to come, and take an 
honored place beside Carleton and Riley and other 
poets of the middle w^est, his present book will 
not be laid aside without a fervent "well done!" 
from the reader. The scenes he knows and loves 
he has wrought into his verse with no uncertain 
hand. 

'''His heart loas in his ivork, and the heart 
Giveth grace unto every art.^^ 

William Wallace Cook. 




Contents 

Ol' St ampin' Grounds - l 

As Mrs. WiGGS Says - - 96 

Boy You Used To Know, The 61 

Back Hum ' - - 24 

Bert - 87 

Back Again - - - 41 

Dearie O' 66 

Epistle To James Whitcomb Riley, An - • • 68 

Gull Lake 38 

House Next Door, The 4 

I'M Jest A Boy 70 

Invitation, An - - ■ 44 

Jest 63 

Jason Swamp Muskeeter, The - - - - - 82 

Little Shack Sermon, A 50 

Larrys' Party - - - 12 

Long In June 22 

Life - 76 

Little Brown Eyed Lass, The - - - - 47 

*My Li'l Tiny Gal 79 

My Choice - - - - 94 

My Bosses 99 

My Ol' Man - - 72 



Modern Rip Van Winkle, A 26 

Message, The 59 

Ol' Kit 89 

Ol' Familiar Town. The 17 

Optimist, The - - - - 97 

Ol' Town, The 23 

Outlet, The 49 

Protest, A 45 

Retrospect ' - - - 53 

Round The Ol' Kazoo 20 

Riddle, A 75 

Sah 6 

Springtime Ruminations 39 

Spring O' Year 16 

Uncle Ike's Swim 85 

Wouldn't We Joe ■ 10 

What De Use - 78 

Waiting For His Sweetheart - - ■ - 74 

When Autumn's Come 04 

When You Kissed Me 57 

When You Went Home --•-.-- 55 

Weather Signs - 52 

Watermelon Time - 103 

Wonderin' 14 

Yesterdays, The 101 

Ye Minds Me 60 

Yo' Unc' Douglas' Greetin's 80 



01* $tampin* Qitounds 

The or bridg-e stands where the ol' bridge stood, 

An' the ol' mill's still in the neighborhood, 

With the same ol' roars an' the same ol' clanks. 

An' the same ol' wheel an' the same ol' planks, 

A little bit moss-grown, I'll admit; I 

An' the ol' beam's gone, where we uster sit I 

An' fish fer dace, in the warm June sun, i 

An' fer suckers, too — when the suckers run. 

i 

i 

The ol' path winds where the ol' path wound, ] 

An' the same ol' trees still stand around, i 
With the same ol' apples, and' the same old shade. 

An' the same old spring 'at Davis made. i 

What 'pears to be the same ol' cow ! 

Is pastured out in the wood-lot now ; ■ j 
An' the same ol' hole's in the same ol' fence 
Where I 'member wunst I found fi' cents. 

The ol' bank runs where the ol' bank ran, i 

An' some o' the same ol' landmarks stan', | 

With the same ol' log an' the same old stone, \ 

An' the same ol' stump all mossy grown. | 

An' yet, somehow, it do appear • i 

'At somethin' er other is missin' here. 1 

Why, yes — what's come o' the big "ol' tree" • 

And the boys that went barefoot with me. ! 



I wonder where "Punk" Mor'son is, 
An' "Bony" Bryant, too? 
An' all the rest o' that ol' gang 
'At played with me an' you. 
Where's "Spot" Stultz an' "Fatty" gone 
An' "Mud," an' "Bill," and "Lou?" 
An' while I'm lookin' 'round — why, say, 
Now what's become o' you? 

There ain't much change come o'er the place. 

Except the vanished boyish face 

O' the little chap 'at swum 'round here 

In the long ago o' a vanished year. 

Don't seem no more than yesterday 

Since all us fellers used to play 

An' swim 'round here — it sure do seem 

I should find you all along this stream. 

Gently the river glides along, 

Singin' it's n-ever endin' song, 

Singin' its song o' leafy bowers. 

Deep still woods, an' sweet wild flowers. 

Singin' to me, an' singin' to you 

The ol' sweet song o' the Kal-a-ma-zoo, 

Singin' to me, an' singin' to you 

The story o' what we uster do. 




THE "ol' tree" SWIMMIN' HOLE 



As deeper groAvs the sunset skies, • 
Slowly the mist begins to rise; 
An' hangs like a curtain o'er the stream, 
An' pictures the scene o' a long past dream, 
Fer settin' here with half-closed eyes 
I kin hear the splashes an' joyous cries '■- 
Come echoin' back from that long ago 
When you an' I were youngsters, Joe. ' 



The House Hext Door 

i 

I've been visltin' down to Mollie's i 

In that new house o' hers | 

She built upon the site o' where ' 

The or barn stood for years ; ] 

An' it covers up the play ground ] 

So it's thirty feet, not more, : 

Between her bedroom winder i 

An' the house next door. ^ 

< 

i 

A kind o' reminiscence comes 

A-creepin' over me ; 

When I'm settin' at her winder i 

An' lookin' out. I see 
Them two ol' yeller porches 

With the ivy creepin' o'er, 
An' a general kind o' side view 

O' the house next door. ^ 

House next door, to most folks. 

Don't mean so very much ; \ 

P'rhaps a friendly neighbor, 

Er playmate, er some such. 
With me it's somewhat diff'rent, 

An' it means a little more — 
S'pose it's jest 'cause I was born 

In the house next door. 



'Twas there I learned life's lessons, 

Word by word was taught to talk, 
An' I can jest remember 

When I first begun to walk, 
When I'd take two steps an' tumble 

An' go rollin' 'cross the floor — 
In my little babyhood days 

In the house next door. 

Wisht instead o' settin' here, 

A-tryin' to write a rhyme, 
'At I was back on that ol' bench 

'Long 'bout dinner time — 
Talkin' there with Billy 

Out in front of Billy's store — 
'N hear ma whistle "dinner" 

From the house next door. 

'Twould take a heap o' talkin' 

To tell o' all, I've done 
A-playin' 'round in that ol' house — 

The troubles an' the fun — 
But each succeedin' year shall make 

Me love em more an' more. 
Them tender recollections 

O' the house next door. 



Sab 

That or house where I wuz. born. 

With a mother's love an' sister's scorn, , 

An' father's kind o' mixed , up like, 

Tho' I believe he loved me a great big sight 

More'n he hated me, cuz it's plain's can. be, 

There wuz never a bettei* father'n he. 

An' there's where I spent so many years 

Chuck full o' joy all mixt with tears, 

An' there's where I knew the one — 'cept ma — 

'At loved me the best o' all, that's Sah. 

That little room, right next to hers, 

When she lived with us in by-gone years, 

Where she'd put me to bed an' tuck me in, 

My ! how I wish she could do it agin ; 

Fer she'd tuck me in so slick an' Avarm 

At' th' coldest colds cudn't do no harm. 

If she'd tuck me in t'night I believe 

I'd stay right there jest's long 's 1 live; 

For there wuzn't a soul in the world — 'cept ma- 

'At could tuck a feller in like Sah. 

An' that ol' barn 'at uster be 

A reg'lar paradise ter me, 

Where ev'ry night, right after school 

(An' th' ol' coal box 'ud be th' gool) 

We'd play hide an' coop, in an' about; 



When long she'd come, an' up an' shout ' 
*'See here young man, I think you're able 
T' pitch right in an' clean out this stable." 
Fer there wuzn't a soul in the worl' — 'cept ma— 
'At could make a feller work like Sah. 

An' that ol' yard where t uster play 

An' idle th' hours day by day, 

Under them two ol' apple trees 

With their tiny fruit an' honey bees ! 

An' one winter when I wuz 'bout two feet tall, 

I 'member I rolled a big snow ball, 

An' lot o' little ones, an' when she come, I'd 

Frow some at her, nen run an' hide. ' 

But she'd pull me out like a brindle calf. 

An' nen we'd set an' laff, an' laff, 

Fer there wuzn't a soul in the worl' — 'cept ma— 

'At could make a- feller laff like Sah. 

An' some days when I'd be loafin' round 

Making* mud pies out on the ground 

Er swingin' 'neath them apple trees 

Er bottlin' up big bumble-bees, 

'Long she'd come an' up an' say: 

''See here, young man, today's Sunday, 

You dress right up an' trot along 

To Sunday school, where you belong." 

Fer there wuzn't a soul in the worl' — 'cept ma- 

'At could make a feller be good like Sah. 



N'en other days when I'd be mad 

An' frow things 'round, an' act real bad, 

An' tell th' folks how mean they were, 

An' how they wouldn't let me stir, 

An' I wouldn't have nothin' 'tall explained, 

Nen she'd say: "Young man, y' shud be ashamed 

To act like that ; if you don't do right 

I'll wallop you clean outer sight." 

Fer there wuzn't a soul — not even ma — 

'At could make a feller mind like Sah. 

That ol' church where they uster hold 

Auctions, 'member when they sold 

Me that shoe bag an' made ma mad, 

So she spanked me good, an' sent me to bed. 

An' I cried, an' cried like everything? 

Nen in she'd come an' set an' sing 

An' laff, an' talk, an' say "boo-hoo" 

Jest to mock me ; nen I'd laff too, 

Fer there wuzn't a soul in the worl — 'cept ma — 

'At could cheer a feller up like Sah. 

That ol' grave yard up on the hill, 

Where all is beautiful, quiet an' still, 

An' th' birds, an' th' flow'rs cover th' ground, 

An' most trees are green th' year around. 

Where brother Robbie is laid away. 



An' Ruthey an' Katie, an' Dave's Charley, 
An' all o' my folks, an' her folks too, 
Tell ye what I hope they'll do — 
'At they'll dig two graves near pa an' ma, 
By an' by, fer me an' Sah. 



lUouldn't UJe Joe 

Us two'd hike out when the first snow flew, 

Wouldn't we, Joe? Me and you, 

An' Tim an' Lize, and Fritz 'ud whine 

An' ol' Jumbo 'd tail on behin' — 

Wise ol' purp, Jum, wasn't he Joe? 

Wa'n't worth knowin' what he didn't know ; 

An wouldn't them hounds make th' rabbits go 

'Round th' ol' south marshes, wouldn't they, Joe? 

"Over South" was th' place where the rabbits 

romped. 
Wasn't it, Joe? Them grounds we stomped 
Back in th' days o' long ago — 
Th' bestest days — wasn't they, Joe? 
When Tim hit th' trail o' a cotton tail. 
An' 'ud tell us so with a long drawn wail 
"Ou-o-o- ou-o-o-o- ou-o-o-o," — so, 
Make your heart beat quick, — wouldn't it Joe? 

Then Lize 'an Fritz 'ud join in, 
Wouldn't they Joe? An' howl like sin 
Hot on th' trail o' that cotton tail, 
With noses an' eyes that couldn't fail. 
An' then bimeby with a jump an' a rush 
Out he'd pop from th' alder brush 
An' then — ker bang! — 'ud go your gun, 
Wouldn't it joe? — an' wasn't it fun. 



10 



Then we'd hike home ^gain, me an' you 

Wouldn't we Joe? An' th' rabbit stew 

'At your ma 'ud cook, like your ol' ma couldy 

With dumplins in, it — wasn't it g'ood? 

An' how I'd eat — An' so would you, 

An' Sprint — he'd eat enough f er two. 

An' yer ma 'ud smile, it 'ud tickle her so 

T' see us a eatin'— wouldn't it Joe? 

Wish we was back there — m^ an' you, 

Stompin' around th' Kalamazoo — 

Great ol' river, wasn't she Joe? 

Wan't much about it we didn't know. 

If we could git back there, you an' rne, 

An' jest be boys like we uster be 

'Round them ol' stompin' grounds we uster know, 

We'd stay there forever, — wouldn't we Joe? 



11 



Lait|tv*$ Panty 

Wunst Larry Wright give a party, 

When he lived on the hill ; 
'Twas in the old times, long ago, 

When we was little still; 
An' I've most, almost, forgotted 

All the little girls an' boys 
That come to that air party 

An' helped to make a noise. 

But I can still remember tho' 

O' how we all took sticks. 
An' lined t'gether in a row 

(Soldier folks, we thinks) ; 
An' how we all marched 'crost the road 

T' Lacy's home, an' then, 
O' how we all o' us turned 'round 

An' all marched back again. 

An' I can sure remember 

All them cakes — they was a dream ! — 
An' fruit, an' chicken salad. 

An' red an' white ice cream ! 
An' Paul Erb frowed a biscuit 

An' hit me in the eye, 
An' nen Mis' Wright she jollied me 

An' wouldn't let me crv. 



12 



An' after that we played an' played, 

An' nen we played some more. 
Kicked up our heels an' squeeled 

An' rolled around the floor ; 
Nen by'nby, Mis' Wright she says 

How glad she was we come, 
An' nen we all put on our hats, 

An' nen we all marched home. 

Wuzn't them the bestest times. 

Them times o' long ago? 
Wuzn't them the bestest friends. 

Them friends we useter know? 
I wish that I could go clean back 

To that afternoon an' night, 
An' have that party over 

That wuz give by Larry Wright. 



13 



UJondenin' 

Me, an' Pa, an' Ma, an' Mollie, 

Sah, an' Emma with us, too. 
Drove out to the cemetery — 

Went to bury Orlando. 
Stood beside the grave an' waited 

While the parson read the text, 
Stood beside the grave an' wondered 

Which of us would be the next. 

Me, an' Pa, an' Sah, an' Mollie 

Stood together by the bed. 
Eyes a-streamin', hearts a-achin'-^ ., 

Little Mother lay there dead. ' ,' 
Three days later, at th' fun'ral, '" ." 

While the parson read the text. 
Stood beside the grave an' wondered 

Which of us would be the next. 

Me, alone, up in the North woods, 
Settin' 'round with heart like lead. 

Grant had jest brought out the message- 
Telegram that Pa was dead. 

Hurried home an' caught th' fun'ral, 
An' as the parson read the text, 

Stood beside the grave an' wondered 
Which of us would be the next. 



•U 



Me an' Mollie, one Spring mornin', 

Walked out to the little lot, 
Sat down by the graves an' rested, 

Jest us two; an' then I thought, 
In time they'll be another fun'ral. 

An' as the parson reads the text, 
'Twon't take a powerful heap o' guessin' 

T' tell whose turn is comin' next. 



15 



$pttins O^ ycait 

Spring is here, an' it's a seemin' 
Like it's time to git to dreamin' ; 
See that same ol' sun a beamin' 
With his face chuck full o' cheer? 

Ducks and geese are all a-flyin', 
Robins chirpin', peewees cryin'; 
What's the use to think o' dyin* 
At this happy time o' year? 

Now's the time o' April showers, 
April breezes, April flowers ; 
Sunny days an' happy hours, 
Cheer in everythin' you see. 

Trees are leafin', daisies springing 
Every bird is busy singin', 
All the world with joy's a'ringin' — 
Spring o' year's th' time for me. 



16 



Tbc 01' Familiap Coion 

I don't reckon that you people 
Who stay home the year aroun', 
Are a-notin' o' the changes 
In the ol' familiar town, 
Like me who jest drops in there 
Fer a minute now and then, 
An' takes a hasty look aroun' 
An' then hikes out again. 

Altho' I ain't a kicker yet. 

I'm some constrained ter say 

That I wasn't much impressed 

By what I saw the other day. 

One side o' Main street all ripped up 

An' full o' stones an' sticks, 

An' the other side all nicely paved 

With big, red pavin' bricks. 

An' right down through the middle 
O' that wide ol' sleepy street, 
The electric cars was runnin' — 
Why, I never saw the beat ! 
To think o' Marshall actin' up 
Jest like a great big city. 
With all them high falutin' airs — 
It's jest a mortal pity. 



17 



I noticed how the oprey house 

Stood on the ol' location, 

An' how the same ol' fellers was 

A-hangin" 'round the station. 

There was Sol McN'ames an' Billy Holmes 

An' Andy Harrigan, 

An' ol' Lafe Cole an' Jim Fahey — 

But I missed ol' Pokey Dan. 

I noticed 'mongst th' others 
That Gran'pa Shoop was there; 
But I couldn't see Dick Butler 
Er John Powell anywhere. 
And there was lots of others 
Of the ol' boys that I missed, 
But it made me sort o' glad ter see 
Tom Wright still on th' list. 

He come along an' shook my hand 
An' passed the time o' day, 
An' handed me a big slice o' 
That smile that's there to stay. 
Tom's a justice now, you know. 
An' by ginger ! I declare 
That him an' lawyer Eddie 
Makes a purty foxy pair. 



18 



Tom, he writes the warrants up 

An' John Bean runs 'em in, 

An' Den'son takes th' pris'ner's part 

An' argifies fer him. 

An' so betwixt the three o' them, 

The other feller, he's well — 

"That's the way the money goes, 
Pop goes the weasel," 

They've got a bran' new school house 

An' a new ol' ladies' home. 

Which they say was somewhat damaged 

By a recent big cyclone. 

An' they got a bran' new depot 

Where the street cars comes an' goes, 

An' I noticed Hoppy Hagan's 

Got a branf new suit o' clothes. 

Yes, ol' Marshall's sure a-boomin'. 
She's sure a-flyin' high. 
I guess she'll beat Chicago 
If she keeps on — bye an' bye. 
But I guess before she does it 
She'll have ter jest arouse 
Herself, an' sort o' hump aroun' 
An' build a oprey house. 



19 



Round tbc 01' Kazoo 

I've been wandering over the ol' grounds, Joe, 

An' over the paths we used to know 

So well in the days when we were boys 

And knew the pleasure o' youthful joys. 

I strolled out the old elm shaded street. 

To where the town and the country meet 

At the iron bridge, it stands there still — 

And what do you think 'bout Cleveland's mill? 

They've taken the ol' wheel out where we 
Used to set an' fish, and Kite Holmes he 
Fell off'n it once, remember that? 
An' how Mud Belcher chased his hat 
Clear to the ol' tree swimmin' hole 
An' fished it out with his fishin' pole, 
An' I laughed so hard I cried, an' you — 
You laughed so hard you fell in, too. 

I wandered over to Davis's wood. 

That is, the place where the ol' wood stood, 

(Most of the trees are chopped down now). 

An' the ol' split maple — 'member how 

That time that Eddie Klugman dim' 

Up, an' got caught on a limb 

By the seat o' his pants, 'n me 'n you 

Laughed till we was black and blue? 



20 




CLEVELAND'S MILL 



By the ol' tree swimmin' hole I passed — 
My, but it's changed since I saw it last! 
The ol' bank's almost washed away 
An' the ol' stump's gone. — Remember th' day 
That we tied Dad Walburn's shirt an' socks, 
And he got so mad that he heaved rocks 
At us, an' we all yelled "Chaw beef," 
When he tried to untie 'em with his teeth? 

Wouldn't you like to get back here, Joe? 
Along with the gang that you uster know. 
And have Sprint Townsend with us too, 
An' do the things that we used to do? 
If you would, then why don't you take a hint 
An' come along down here, you an' Sprint. 
You won't find everything here you knew. 
But you'll find me an' th' ol' Kazoo. 



21 



Long in 3unc 

Bees air buzzin' in th' clover, 
Medder larks air singin' 'roun', 
Shop's closed up, an' things air sort o' 
Sultry like aroun' th' town. 
Took my pole an' went a hikin' 
Out along the Rice Creek stream, 
Stretched out where th' leaves air thickest 
Ter set an' dream. 

Heard a gol darn red head peckin' 

Way off yonder in th' wood, 

Heard a little brown thrush singin'. 

Golly ! but it sounded good. 

'Less you've worked th' hull blame winter. 

You don't know how good it seem' 

Jest ter git out in th' bush 

An' set an' dream. 

Had a bite an' didn't know it, j 

Watchin' that blame red squirrel play, [ 

Wished that I could go a scootin' j 

Through th' branches that-a-way. j 

Wish the blame ol' mill 'u'd burn i 

Or they'd bust their darn machine ! 

An' I could stav ris^ht here all summer I 

An' set an' dream. 

22 



Cbc OP Toipn 

Alluz asleep. Alluz asleep. 

I go away, an' out in th' worl', 

I find everything in a roar an' a whirl, 

A-bangin' an' slammin', 

A rippin' an' rammin' 

A-shovin' an' pushin', 

An' tearin' an' crushin' — 

But when I get back t' th' ol' town its 

Alluz asleep. Alluz asleep. 

Peaceful an' still. Peaceful an' still. 
Out in th' worl' they's a roar an' a howl. 
Rumble an' grumble, an' snarl an' g'rowl, 
Never an end t' th' wrastle an' fight, 
Never a rest from morn' till night — 
But when I get back t' th' ol' town its 
Peaceful an' still. Peaceful an' still. 

Quiet an' dead. Quiet an' dead. 

Outside th' worl' is chuck full o' life, 

Th' songs an' th' shouts of th' gay an' th' blithe, 

A-whoopin' an' runnin' 

An' troopin' an' funnin', 

A-jumpin' an' prancin' 

An' jiggin' an' dancin' — 

But when I get back t' th' ol' town its 

Quiet an' dead. Quiet an' dead. 



23 



Back Hum 

I sometimes get ter thinkin' 

When the autumn clays have come, 
An' the leaves are turnin' yeller, 

That Fd like ter get back hum. 
Back to that old dreamv town 

That I left years ago, 
Back among old mem'ries. 

And the boys I used ter know. 

Lawsy ! when I think about 

Them good old days gone by, 
I get so blessed hum sick 

That I almost wanter cry. 
I try to keep on laughin' 

An' not be sour an' glum, 
But I jest can't help a thinkin' 

That I'd like ter get back hum. 

I get so blessed sick o' this 

Blame prairie, makes me swear. 
Nary tree er bird er 

Sheet o' water anywhere. 
Jest this blame land stretchin' ofif 

It seems ter kingdom come. 
An' burnin' up, an' blame it all 

I wanter git back hum. 



24r 



There's a powerful lot o' sentiment 

An' truth, in "Hum Sweet Hum," 
And it don't take much ter find it out 

Er git you thinkin' some. 
And sometimes when you're lonesome, 

An' th' hull world's out o' plumb, 
You'll catch yourself a wishin' 

That you'd like ter git back hum. 



25 



B IDodeitn Rip Van Olinklc 

This is a story of long ^RO, 

But wholly true, as the records show ; 

A tale of a century, passed away, 

Lost to memory, gone to decay. 

I was a lad of youth sublime 

Back in that olden, golden time. 

Never a worry jor care I had — 

Ha! I was a blithesome, happy lad, 

Living at ease in the old, old town. 

Chasing the butterflies up and down ; 

Over the meadows I romped and ran — 

Naught I cared for the toils of man ; 

Sought but the pleasures that life can give, 

Asked naught, but to do my way and live. 

Thus, one glorious summer day, 

I was whiling the hours away, 

Down by the singing river's brink, 

Where I often went to lie and think. 

There in the forest shade alone. 

And dream the dreams that were all my own. 

Thus, as I lay 'neath the willow tree, 
A woman came and sat by me — 
A woman? No ! a hideous hag 
Clothed in a dirty, tattered rag ; 



26 



Toothless, grisly, gaunt and grim. 

With eye& that were watery, red and dim ! 

Naught she spoke but sat her there, 

And watched with a horrible, gloating stare, 

'Till at last I cried from very fear, 

"Woman, begone! What want you here? 

Why do you come to this quiet place 

To break my dreams with your hideous face? 

Get you gone, you ugly shrew, 

I want nothing to do with you." 

Then the creature laughed a devilish squal. 

That made my very marrow crawl, " 

And ogled and glowered and laughed again, 

'Til the murmuring echoes took up the strain 

And rattled it down through the wooded dell, 

'Til methought and answer laughed back from hell. 

"What want ye here?" once more I cried. 

And then the jibbering wretch replied, 

"Son," she said, "it amuses me 

So surly and peevish a youth to see. 

What ails ye, lad, that ye seem to be 

So little pleased with my company? 

Forsooth, ye've no cause for alarm, 

I come not here to do you harm. 

But only to chat a quiet hour 

With you here in this shady bower. 

And permitting me, if you would — 

Perchance I might do you some good. 



27 



For what cause then do ye rant and rage? 
My son, can ye not respect old age?" 
''Well, then," said I, 'who might you be? 
And what great good would you do me? 
If talk you must, come, say your say. 
But finish soon and go your way. 
I come not here to this quiet stream 
To talk, I come to dream, to dream !" 

"To dream of what, my lad?" ask-ed she. 
Perchance that's where my help will be." 
"Good!" I cried, "do you deal in dreams? 
From your looks, you are a witch, it seems. 
Then kindly work your spell on me 
And realize this fantasy 
That has harassed me thro' all these years, 
Plunging me first in hope then tears. 
Seeming so near and yet so far — 
But first, please tell me who you are." 

She said "Would ye know me then, my man? 
I am the ruler of a world-wide clan, 
A people, who know no nation's rule. 
No nation's law, no nation's school. 
Look to the north and the south,'' she said, 
"Look to that west where the sun sets red. 
Look to the east, through all these lands 
You'll find them scattered, the gypsy bands, 



2S 



And all of them know me as their queen, 
For I am the queen, I am Lucene. 
Tell me wherein your trouble lies. 
Tell me this dream you would realize ; 
If possible, and I have no doubt 
But what I can, I will fetch it out." 

"So be it then, old witch," I cried, 

And straightway did my dream describe — 

The dream of a hope that was all in vain, 

A hope impossible to attain. 

'Twas only this that could make me sad, 

For I was a blithesome, happy lad ; 

Never a worry or care had I, 

Except when I thought on this fantasy, 

And hoped, and yearned, that in time Fd see 

That might, which isn't, what ought to be, 

Or, that which isn't, but might be still, 

What might have been, but never will. 

This I told to the gipsy witch, 

This one sad blight of my whole life, which 

Was my fondest hope, and greatest wish, 

To see built up in Marshall, Mich., 

An opera house. "Good faith !" cried she, 

"Is that all?" "Well yes, it ought to be, 

When all is considered," I replied, 

"And viewing it from every side, 

I must admit that tho' it appear 



29 



Trivial, still it is, I fear, 

A hopeless hope, not to be attained, 

A dream whose object never can be gained." 

''What's that?" cried she, "a hopeless hope? 

Nay, nay, my lad, I've got the dope. 

See," — And she untied a pack 

Strapped upon her bony back 

And opening it, she brought to view 

A bottle filled with some strange brew; 

It was of color a brilliant green 

With a weird and fascinating sheen, 

Like we sometimes see in a serpent's eye, 

''And what might this stuff be?" asked I. 

"This," she said, "is the greatest balm 

Of human kind, and it will calm 

The most turbulent spirits, and imparts 

Good cheer and joy to the saddest hearts." 

Then taking from her pack a glass, 
A small one, of the whiskey class. 
She filled and handed it to me, 
Saying, "Now then we shall see 
If your refractory hope 
Won't yield to this seductive dope. 
Drink it, my lad, and I surmise 
Your dream will quickly realize." 



30 



Then eagerly I drained the glass. 

I know not how it came to pass — 

The trees and sky seemed disarranged, 

And then — presto ! — all had changed. 

The witch and stream were gone, and I, 

Sore astonished, was standing by 

A building, of architecture grand, 

The work, nO' doubt, of a master hand. 

Stately columns of marble stone 

And sculptured like I have never known, 

Magnificent arches and lights that shed 

A radiance over every head, 

And in through the wide and stately door 

Went a stream of people, rich and poor. 

Perplexed and bewildered I 

Watched these people passing by 

And wondered what, and wondered why, 

And where, and how it was that I 

Was there — I could not understand. 

Nor whence had come this structure grand. 

I turned to someone standing near 

And asked, ''What is this building here?" 

"What's that?" cried he, "why know you not 

This blessing that old Marshall's got? 

'Tis the opera house, and opening night ; 

It's free — go in and see the sight. 

But hurry, for the building's jammed!" 

I softly whispered — "Well, I'll be damned !" 



31 



Couldn't help it, had to swear, 
And kicked my heels up in the air, 
And capered 'round just like a boy, 
And whooped and laugfhed for very joy. 
At last, my dream, my fondest wish, 
An opera house in Marshall, Mich., 
Was realized, — and in I went, 
On full investigation bent. 

Ye gods ! To describe it I'll not try, 

The spectacle that met my eye. 

Purple curtains of plush and silk. 

Columns that glittered with silver and gilt, 

Alyriad colored lights that blazed 

With radiance of a million stars, and dazed 

Me with the splendor of it all ; 

Beautiful paintings on the wall, 

And gorgeous frescoes on the ceiling: 

Entrancing music that came pealing 

From out the pit of the orchestra, 

(Which was Marshall's, by the way) 

And the people in the audience — 

Many I recognized at once. 

He, of the tablet and raven hair, 

The belt of Jupiter man, was there ; 

Likewise he, whose head was bare. 

Also he, who was lank and spare ; 

Each had contributed each his share 

To this magificent, grand affair. 



32 



And the play — the play was a tragedy, 

The title of which was "Never to Be." 

Rather strange, I philosophized, ' ' 

When the never to be was realized, J 

And the play went on in a kind of maze, ; 

For I seemed to be in a dreamy daze, ] 

And drifting — drifting* it seemed thro' air, 

Tho' I knew I sat in the theater chair. J 

But the play went on and so did I, 

Tho' I heard not the lines of the tragedy. 

Hours — days — and years it seemed 

Went by, as I sat in the chair and dreamed — : 

Dreaming — I knew not what, only ; 

That the dream was sweet as a summer day. j 

'Till finally a lull came o'er the place 

And I roused and glanced at my neighbor's face j 

And it caused me to start up in affright j 

And cry aloud at the horrible sight, j 

For he and all the others there j 
Grinned with a horrible, ghostly stare. . I 

All were dead, and every one | 

Was a ghastly, grinning skeleton. I 

The splendid frescoes on the ceiling \ 

And paintings on the wall were peeling. ' 

Hideous bugs crawled on the wall ; \ 

Damp and dust were over all, i 

The musty curtains hung in shreds \ 

And spiders spun their silken threads. I 



33 



From skull to skull and in and out 

Thro' eyeless sockets, worms crawled about. 

It was, indeed, a ghastly sight 

That met my gaze that fateful night, 

Too horrified to move, I sat 

Petrified, when a great bat 

Flew in my face, and with a scream 

I woke, to find it all a dream. 

The river sang its reedy way. 
The birds were singing blithe and gay, 
And by my side I found the vial. 
Whose contents had for one short while 
Made real my dream, my hopeless hope. 
But alas ! Fd found it a hopeless dope. 
The bottle was still three-quarters full 
And the color grown a trifle dull, 
I cast it from me with a frown 
And made my way into the town. 
And here the sight that met my eyes 
Most truly filled me with surprise. 
Buildings that Fd never seen 
Stood where the ones I knew had been. 
The place had changed from end to end, 
Nor could I find a single friend; 
Not one acquaintance could I meet 
Among the people on the street. 



34 



Astonished and bewildered I 

Stopped a party passing by 

And begged them to tell me what 

Had so changed the old familiar spot, 

Where were the people that I knew, 

And whence had come these buildings new? 

They looked at me in cold surprise, 

As if my talk had given rise 

To doubts, as to my sanity. 

Then one replied, "Sir, what d' you say? 

I do not understand, I fear. 

These buildings, you call new, were here 

When I was born, years ago. 

And as to people that you know, 

If you know not these, I g'reatly fear 

You'll find none, they too were born here." 

"Is this not Marshall?" then I cried. 

"It surely is," the man replied. 

"Then what you say, sir, can't be true," 

I said, "For know you not I, too. 

Was born here. What does it mean? 

Your friends here I have never seen. 

And yet I'm sure 'twas yesterday. 

No longer gone, I passed this way, 

And all these buildings I see now 

Were not here then, on that I'll vow." 

At this the crowd around me laughed 



35 



And one remarked, "He's gone clean daft." 
'TVe not," I cried. "Where's old Tom Wright? 
I think he'll soon set matters right." 
"Tom Wright," said they, "pray who is he? 
We know him not, but here's John B., 

The only Wright who's come this way 

For fully half a century." 

Then John stepped out, an aged man, 

Who had surely passed the four score span, 

"Do you mean old Thomas N?" 'asked he. 

"Yes," I replied, "Where might he be?" 

Then old John laughed — "Ho ! ho ! well, well ! 

Where might he be? — 'Tis hard to tell. 

He means my grand dad, it appears, 

Why, he's been dead a hundred years." 

"A hundred years !" I cried aghast, 

As the truth began to dawn at last, 

"Old man, is that the truth you spoke, 

Or is it merely an idle joke? 

What year is this? Come now, no tricks!" 

He answered, "Twenty hundred and six." 

I was stunned, but I knew it all w^as true, 
The evidence I could not misconstrue; 
I read it plain in every face, 
And in the changes of the place. 
"Over a hundred years," I cried, 
"Since I lay down by the river side 



36 



And talked to that old gipsy witch 

And drank that cursed potion which 

Had caused me to sleep for a century, 

And made it seem but one short day, 

And to dream of that hopeless — Ha ! but wait, 

It mig'ht be true, it was not too late 

To realize that old fantasy. 

"Has Marshall an opera, house yet?" asked I. 

Then o'er each face came a sudden gloom, 

*Tt is something, sir, we have never known, 

But we're to have one in a future day. 

For shortly now, so the papers say, 

There will be a meeting of prominent men 

Who will organize a stock company — then 

We are going to build !" — "Oh, rats !" I cried, 

And wandered back to the river side. 

I found the bottle among the rushes 
And a quiet spot among the bushes, 
And sat me down and wrote this story, 
And now that it's finished in all it's glory. 
The contents of that bottle I'm going to drink 
To the very last drop, and then I'll sink 
Into utter oblivion, beside this river 
Where I hope I'll sleep and dream forever. 



37 



Gull Lake 

Green grow your banks, oh bonny Gull, 

Upon your peaceful breast 
The music of your wavelets lull 

All nature into rest. 
Among your trees the robin trills 

His little song of love, 
While in your bushes coos and bills 

The gentle mourning dove. 

You are a palace, bonny Gull, 

Of architecture rare. 
Your chambers all are beautiful. 

Your halls beyond compare. 
Your crystal waters are your floor, 

Your walls are green and high, 
Your vine hung outlet is a door. 

Your ceiling is the sky. 

I love you dearly, bonny Gull, 

I love your groves and highlands, 
I love your waters clear and cool, 

I love your bays and islands. 
If I could dwell beside your shore. 

Or by your peaceful river, 
I'd be content and ask no more 

Than live and live forever. 



38 



td 
o 
"^ 

H 
Q 

a 




$pitingtime Ruminations 

It seems ter me it's time ter take 

A pack an' hike fer ol' Gull lake; 

I'm overdue an' I sure hate 

T' come a hikin' back there late. 

Don't doubt but what th' robin^s there, 

An' peewee an' — I do declare — 

I'll bet that blame ol' yeller shack 

'S a-wonderin' why I ain't got back. 

Must be most time fer trees ter bud, 
An' frogs come crawlin' out th' mudr 
An' holler round in them ol' bogs, 
An' mate an' lay their pollywogs. 
Don't s'pose th' oriole's got there yet 
To th' dog-wood tree — but say, I'll bet 
That ol' red-head in th' poplar tree 
'S a-wonderin' what's become o' me. 

Long about this time o' year 

Th' water in th' lake's so clear 

Jest fairly makes you gasp an' stare — 

It's jest like lookin' right through air. 

Time is past — er jest begun 

The time, you know, the suckers run. 

An' I'll bet ol' sucker asks his mate 

''Wonder why that feller's late?" 



39 



Turtles out on my front stoop^ 
(Td like a bowl o' turtle soup), 
An' fish are prime, an' I guess how 
That ol' back pasture holds a cow. 
An' down 'round Yorkville neighborhood 
I guess b'gosh, my credit's good 
Fer bread an' cookies, pie an' meat; 
Don't worry much 'bout what I'll eat. 

S'pose I'll get there kind o' lame, 

But th' birds — they'll all sing-jest th' same; 

An' bees'll buzz, and frogs'U yell, 

An' Chip'll ring his ol' bus bell. 

An' th' ol' world, she'll wag along 

A-keepin' time t' Bob White's song. 

An' we'll be happy — will us three — 

My ol' shack. Gull lake, an' me. 



40 



Back JIaain 

Back again, by golly ! 

Do seem sartin good 
T' be perambulatin' 

Again 'round this wood. 
See 'at same ol' Pee-wee, 

Sassy tail a bobbin' — 
Hey ! there goes th' Chipmunk, 

An' — hello, there, Robin, 
You back? Glad t' see ye, 

S'pose ye'll build yer nest 
Same ol' place as last year — 

Guess it's 'bout th' best. 

Where's that gol-darn Red-head? 

Hello! There he goes 
A rat-a-tat-tat-tatin' 

Bangin' o' his nose. 
What's that air a holl'rin' 

An' yellin' 'way off there? 
Must be that ol' Blue-jay. 

Why, t'is, I do declare. 
Knew his voice th' minit 

He let that holler out ; 
I'd know it 'mongst a thousan' 

I ain't a nary doubt. 



41 



What you runnin off fer? " 

I ain't goin' t' hurt ye ! 
Y' Red Squirrel, y' act 'sif 

Y' thot th' darn groun' burnt ye. 
Come back an' git acquainted 

With a feller critter, won't ye? 
I only want t' be yer friend, 

I don't want t' hunt ye. 
See that little King-bird 

Chasin' that dum Hawk, 
Ain't they jes a goin' it? 

Hear that bugger squawk. 
Blamest lot o' howlin' 

From a hawk I ever heard ; 
Guess he thinks tarnation 

Is in that little bird. 

There's that ol' Kingfisher 

Settin' on a lim'. 
Him an' me is pardners, 

We fish — me an' him. 
I do my fishin' in a boat 

Er settin' in th' shack, 
AMiile he gets up on top a tree 

An' does th' high dive act. 
Trees air all a leafin', 

Things air lookin' up; 



42 



Here's a little May flower, 
There's a Buttercup. 

See th' water sparkle, 
Nothin' seems t' lack ; 

Mighty glad I'm back agin 
T' my ol' yeller shack. 



43 



/In Inuitatton 

Wheat's a gettin' yeller, 

Corn's a-growin' fine. 
Little melons comin' on 

The watermelon vine. 
Birds air all a-singin', 

Sky is clear and blue — 
Better come to Gull lake 

An' spend a day or two. 

Fish air all a-bitin', 

Swimmin's outer sight ; 
Great, big moon a-shinin' 

In the sky 'most every night. 
Chicken on the fence rail 

Makes a juicy stew — 
Better come to Gull lake 

An' spend a day or two. 

Lawsy ! but the sunshine, 

Th' water an' th' shade 
On this here reservation's 

Th' best twuz ever made, 
Better take yer foot an' 

Stuflf it in yer shoe, 
An' come a hikin' out here 

An' spend a day or two. 



44 



n Pitotest 

Y' say y' can't see nothin' pretty, 
S'pose it's cause yer from th' city, 

Dunno how ! 
Wouldn't know a sweet wild daisy 
From a tissue paper poesy, 

I'll allow. 
But say, look where you oughter. 
See that sky-blue sheet o' water. 

See it flash? 
See it ripp'lin' an' a sparklin' 
An' a dimplin' an' a darklin' 

See th' grass 
On th' em'rald shores that bound it? 
An' th' trees that grow around it 

Hear them birds 
A-singin' in th' bushes, 
Hear them frogs there in th' rushes. 

See them herds 
A-browsin' on th' hill there. 
Hear that Bobolink an' Killdeer? 

Goodness sake ! 
Y'll find out's a reg'lar paradise. 
When y' learn t' use yer ears an' eyes, 

'Round this lake. 
See them pretty violets growin', 
See them water lilies blowin' 

Over there? 



45 



Did y' ever in th' city, 

See a sight, sir, half so pretty, 

Half so fair? 
This is truly Nature's garden, 
Prettiest spot — eh? Beg yer pardon — 

Who' th' gardner? 
Who's th' one that spades an' digs it, 
Culls an' prunes an' trims an' twigs it? 

God is, pardner. 
He's th' gen'ral sup'rintendent, 
He's this garden's main dependant, 

Keeps it green. 
Prettiest place m all creation. 
As sweet a spot as any nation 

Ever seen. 
You kin talk of other places 
That have marble walks an' vases ; 

Wouldn't take 
All them outfits in th' land,sir, 
Fer a half a cup o' sand sir, 

From Gull lake. 



46 




THE OLD STONE BRIDGE 



The Little Rvown Eyed La$$ 

Down where the river broadens 

Just above the old stone bridge, 
Where the sunHght softly filters, 

Through the elm trees on the ridg'e. 
Where the wild grape vine is clinging 

O'er the water gently swinging. 
There the birds were ever singing 

Of a little brown eyed lass. 

Where we drifted in the shadows 

Of that sweet old long ago. 
And the birds — they helped me tell her 

How I loved her, loved her so, 
And her answer, softly spoken 

By her honeyed lips, gave token 
Of a compact long since broken 

By a little brown eyed lass. 

Those green, sweet scented bowers ; 

Ah ! what memories they hold 
Of the fount of love's young passions 

That were quenched but never cold. 
Where her dark red golden tresses 

Seemed to fold me in their meshes 
As I showered sweet caresses 

On the little brown eyed lass. 



47 



I wonder does she ever, 

In her thoughts or in a dream, 
Go back to those old days along 

That shady, quiet stream. 
With its ivy and its flowers 

And its deep, green shady bowers, 
And the sunshine and the showers 

And the little brown eyed lass. 

And down where the river broadens ; 

Just above the old stone bridge, 
Where the silver leaf is growing 

On the banks along the edge, 
The years decay are bringing, 

But fond memory still is clinging, 
And the birds seem ever singing 

Of a little brown eved lass. 



48 



Cbe Outlet 

Jest as pretty as a picture. 

Nary ripple, nary breeze, 
To disturb the peaceful quiet 

O' th' water an' th' trees ; 
An' the- fragrance o' th' sumac 

Creepin' through th' atmosphere, 
Mixin' with th' drone o' insects, 

Makes you glad that you are here. 

Elderberry blossoms shinin' 

Starry like against th' green ; 
Ivy hangin' o'er th' water 

Like a fairy palace screen — 
Hear th' water kind o' murmur 

Like an ol' forgotten song, 
Bringin' back some ol' sweet mem'ry, 

Dreamin' as you drift along*. 

Overhead th' vines are swingin'. 

Overhead th' elm trees meet, 
Shuttin' in refreshin' coolness, 

Shuttin' out th' stiflin' heat. 
Up there through th' leaves an' branches. 

Catch a glimpse o' sunny skies, 
Watch th' dreamy colors fleetin' — 

Little piece o' paradise ! 



40 



H Little Shack $cpmon 

Oh, the (lays are warm and bahny. 

And the world is full o' joy, 
And I'm feeling just as frisky 

As when I was a boy. 
Th' buds are all a bustin' 

An' the dust's begun to fly. 
An' I'm kind o' sort o' feelin' 

Like I never want to die. 

My, the medder's lookin' handsome! 

An' jest the other day 
I heard a little lark out in 

The ol' back forty say- 
That he'd traveled in Kentucky 

And he'd been in Florida, 
But he reckoned how this weather 

Beat them others every way. 

An' jest then a little robin got 

Conversing like with me. 
Said he wa'n't much on philos'phy, 

But, b'gosh, he couldn't see 
Why 'twas men folks was never 

Satisfied or yet content, 
But kci)t kickin' on th' weather 

No matter how it went. 



50 



And jest then a little peewee 

Chirped up real pert an' bold, 
Said, "Men folks is always kickin' 

When it's jest a little cold." 
An' he further said in passin', 

"In a week's time like as not. 
They'll be jawin' round like sixty, 

Cause it's jest a little hot. 

Then they all joined in together 

An' sang me a little song. 
An' the theme was, "Jest be happy, 

Let th' old world wag along 
Any blame way that she pleases. 

An' you'll find this motto true, 
If you'll only jest be happy 

She'll be always bright to you." 

P. S. 
I might further say in passin', 

If the aunt of Doll Louise 
Will jest take her op'ry glasses 

An' git out here 'mongst the trees. 
She'll be pow'ful interested 

In the spectacle she'll see, 
For a mountain wood peck's nested 

In the Red Head's poplar tree. 



51 



lUcathcp $ign$ 

De fields am lurnin* yeller 

An' de leaves am turnin' red, 
De corn am dry an' riistlin' 

An' de daisys all am dead. 
An' (Ic ^v()()d chuck say he reckon 

It's most time ter go ter bed, 
So I guess it's time ter look out fer de winter. 

De politician reckons dat it's- 

Gittin' time ter vote, 
An' de raccoon's sent his order 

Fer his winter overcoat, 
An' Norton's gittin' ready 

Fer ter store away his boat, 
So I guess it's time ter look out fer de winter. 

Musk rats mighty busy now 

A shinglin' up der roof, 
An' de possum he complainin' 

Dat he ain't got clothes enuflf, 
An' dem am signs I reckon 

Dat am pretty sutton proof 
Dat it must be time to look out fer de winter. 



52 



Retrospect 

I met you first in a hammock 

In the grove of Idlewild, 

I was only a half grown boy, 

And you were only a child ; 

I was too young to understand, 

And you were too young to know 

Of the great white light that came into my life, 

And, that I loved you so. 

Our first quarrel was smoothed in a hammock, 

On a porch in old Kazoo, 

And I told you then that I loved you so 

And you promised that you'd be true. 

But one man says, what the other man says, 

And, you were too young to know 

That the great white light was dimming fast 

And, that I loved you so. 

I saw you last in a hammock. 

On the shores of the Michigan, 

You were sitting contented and happy, 

By the side of another man ; 

Then the merciful night shut out the sight, 

For you were too young to know 

That the great white light went out that night 

Andj that I loved you so. 



53 



And the days and the nights of the hammock- 
Are long, and long ago, 
And over the sand, with a groping hand, 
Tottering, feeble and slow, 
A blind man goes on forever — 
And you are too young to know 
Tliat the light that led is cold and dead 
And, that I love you so. 



54 



lilhen You lilent Home 

When you went home,the void you left behind 

Seemed chaos, and the shadows settled fast, 
And the g'loominess that now pervades my mind 

Is likened to a dark sky overcast. 
Today, I wander dreary and alone 

Through empty rooms that still more empty seem 
Because of your sweet presence which is gone. 

Leaving but a fondly cherished dream. 

A dream I know the years cannot efface, 

Tho' I should live through an eternity, 
No other charms, I feel, can e'er displace 

Those few short hours I had you yesterday. 
And as the robin of his mate bereft 

Disconsolately mourns upon the tree, 
Knowing nO' comfort, so when you had left, 

I mourned for your sweet presence lost to me. 

Alas, for mortal man, who can but live 

Within the present ; that present, bitter gall, 
Still hoping that the future yet may give 

The sweet, dead pleasures he cannot recall. 
And thus, dear heart, I sadly long for you, 

The touch of your soft hand, so fondly pressed, 
The gleam of eyes so tender, brown and true. 

The pressure of your form against my breast. 



55 



When you went home, although but yesterday, 

So deeply have I mourned your presence gone, 
^riie time has seemed a dark eternity. 

Whose midnight gloom can never know a dawn. 
Unless, perchance, dear heart, the Fates decree 

That my vain hopes may be not all in vain. 
That the as yet unknown future holds for me 

The gladsome joy, to have you back again. 



56 



liJben You Kissed me 

When 3^ou kissed me, 
A something, a vag'ne, sweet memory, 
A vision of one I used to know 
Came drifting out of the long ago^ — 
When you kissed me. 

It seemed to me, 

From somewhere, a low, sweet melody, 
An old love song that I used to know, 
Came softly out of the long ago — 
When you kissed me. 

It brought to me 
A feeling, a forgotten ecstacy, 
A burst of sunshine out of the old. 
From a heart I deemed as dead and cold — 
When you kissed me. 

It brought to me 

A longing; I yearned once more to be 
Back where the skies were soft and blue. 
And all the world was for you, sweet you — 
When you kissed me. 



57 



There seemed to be 
A sweet voice, whispering low to me, 
Coming from somewhere out of the blue, 
An old sweet dream that breathed of you- 
When you kissed me. 

It seemed to me 

That some one, some one I could not see. 
Trod lightly on a forgotten grave ; 
But, oh ! what a feeling of peace it gave 
When you kissed me.. 



5S 



The messaQC 

Did you hear the song that the robin sang 

Just at the break of dawn? 
Did you note how strong and clear it rang 

From out there on the lawn? 
Did you understand the joyous trill 
That echoed over wood and hill 

Singing the message sweet and clear, 

''The spring is here, the spring is here?" 

Did you hear the chatter of the rill 

As it broke from its icy bond. 
And the soft south wind come over the hill 

And ripple across the pond? 
Did you catch the scent in the morning air, 
A scent of something sweet and rare? 

Don't you hear the message the little bees hum, 

"The spring is come, the spring is come?" 

Did you see where the wind blew the leaves aside 

Down by the willow tree 
Where a little blue violet was trying to hide 

As it coyly whispered to me — 
"The wintry winds and the snow have fled, 
I think it safe to come out," it said. 

"Indeed," sang the robin, "there's nothing to fear. 

The spring is here, the spring is here." 



59 



ye minds ffic 

Ye minds me o' th' violet, 

Your bonny een o' blue, 
Sae saft an' seemin' kindly 

Wi' sunglints flashin' through. 
Ye minds me o' th' lily fair, 

Your face sae sweet an v/hite, 
Wha's radiance sae quickly turns 

A' mirkness into light. 

Ye minds me o' th' brier rose 

Alang th' burnie brink, 
For I can see reflected in 

Your cheeks its saft warm pink. 
But och ! that rose is treacherous 

An' o' it you're a part, 
For ye ha'e left a stingin' thorn 

Wi'in a broken heart. 



60 



61 



The Boy You Used to Knoto 

Do you 'member th^ boy you uster know, 

That little barefoot kid. 
Way back in th' days o' long ago — 

Remember th' things he did? 
Remember th' gam'es he uster play? 
Hide 'n' coop 'n' runaway, 
Stumpin' each other up in th' hay, 

Wasn't it jest splendid? 

Down t' th' river wasn't it fun 

That little boy yo' knew, 
Fishin' fer suckers along* the run, 

Er paddlin' his canoe? 
Do y' 'member th' merry shout an' laugh. 
As he went scootin' along th' path 
T' th' ol' deep hole, t' take his bath. 

That other me an' you? 

Jevver git kind o' a wistful wish 

Fer th' little boy y' knew? 
Would y' like t' git down by the dam an' fish, 

Jest like he uster do? 
Would, you like to ^et out in the roacl and play, 
One ol' cat, er pullaway, 
Er follow th' clown on circus day. 

Like that little you o' you? 



I sometimes wish I could wipe away 

Th' years I have left behin', 
All but about elexeu say, 

An' sort o' fall in line 
With them other kids I uster know, 
An' run an stumble an' stub my toe, 
Jest like he uster — years ago, 
That other me o' mine. 



62 



3e$t 

Jest to set down together 
An' talk the matter o'er, 
Jest ter jaw together 
Like we used ter do of yore ; 
Jest ter go fishin' together 
An' drink a glass er two, 
An' sing a song together — 
Jest like we used ter do. 

Jest ter be th' same ol' chums 

Jest fer oncet er twicet, 

Jest ter be the jolly bums 

We were 'fore we got spliced ; 

Jest ter be back in th' same ol' place 

Jest like we used ter be, 

Jest fer th' sake o' 'ol' times, Ace — 

Jest only you an' me. 



63 



lUbcn flutumn's Come 

When Autumn's conic, an' leaves 

Have turned tcr colors manifold, 
An' th' fields are all resplendent 

With their coats o' red an' gold, 
Right there at th' point o' 

The good ol' summer's end. 
When th' cold ol' winter sort o' 

Pokes her nose aroun' th' bend. 

Frosty nights, an' hick'ry nuts 

A-droppin' off th' trees, 
An' a smell that's sweet an' woody 

Sort o' minglin' with th' breeze, 
Birds all packin' up an' 

Fussin' roun' t' beat th' band, 
An' on th' fly, when Autumn's come, 

An' off fer Dixie land. 

Woods all hushy like an' still, 

Nary robin flyin'. 
Jest th' leaves up over head 

Sort o' softly sighin', 
Mebby see a red squirrel 

Go a-scootin' up a tree. 
An' set up on a limb an' 

Chatter soc'ble like t' me. 



04 



Muskrats all a-hustlin', 

Layin' up their fall supplies, 
An' fox-squirrels mighty busy 

Buildin' mansions in th' skies, 
An' me likewise a-fig'rin' 

Where I'm g*oin' ter make my hum 
So that I'll be snug an' warm. 

Like them, when Autumn's come. 



65 



Dcaitie O 

Ae day I wandered down a stream 

An' on the slopin' grassy brink, 
Where buddin' willows winiplin' dream, 

I sat me down, awhile, to think. 
An' a' the world seemed blythe an' glad 

But aye my heart was weary o'. 
An' a' my thoughts were drear an' sad 

Frae longin' for my dearie o. 

An' in the middle o' my care 

I heard a foot step soundin' near. 
An' glancin' u]) saw standing there 

The l)onny lass I lo'e sae dear. 
Then a' my sorrows quickly fled 

An' a' the world was cheerie o', 
An' aye my heart was blythe instead 

Frae bein' wi' my dearie o'. 

Her locks were like the raven's plume, 

Her lips like cherries wat wi' dew, 
An' aye I fear Fve met my doom 

Frae her twa een sae brown an' true. 
The bob-o-links went whislin' by 

An' sang to us sae cheerie o', 
An' ilky note an' ilky cry. 

Seemed praises to my dearie o'. 



66 



The robin redbreasts up above 

Were perched upon the swingin' vine, 
An' ilky ane sang o' their love 

An' sweetly sae did I o' mine. 
An' aye I never will forget 

Tho' a' the world be dreary o', 
Wi' pleasure I'll remember yet 

The day I spent wi' dearie o'. 



67 



Jin Epistle to 3amc$ lUbitcomb Riley 

Yes — God bless you Riley, 

That's jest what I say. 

You've helped to make me "smiley," 

But in a dififrunt way 

Tlian what th' other feller wrote, 

That I read in "Century's" book, 

Fer you've taught me t' make note 

An' make me see, an' look. 

You've taught what th' flowers mean, 

An' 'bout th' birds that sing, 

You've taught me why th' fields are green,' 

An' love, — an' every-thing. 

ril haf ter tell ye on th' start 

To understand me Riley, 

That long before I read yer heart, 

I wuz a sort o' "smiley" 

But not th' kind that I am now — 

I'll admit, an' I'm glad to, 

Fer 'twas after you had showed me how, 

I smiled because I had to. 

An' you've done a heap to cheer me up 

When gloomy thoughts were with me. 

An' I wish that I could pay ye back 

Th' happy ones you've give me. 

I'd like to know ye better, sir, 

If you will only let me, 

Though if it isn't to yer wish 



68 



O' course ye kin ferget me, 
But I ask t' let me be yer friend 
As you've been my friend, Riley, 
I wait yer answer t' that end , 
Yours truly, — H. D. Smiley. 



69 



Im Jest a Boy 

Tlicrc ain't no use o' talkin' 

T' a man like mc, 
An' tellin' nic o' what I am, 

An' what 1 ought to 1)e, 
An' the time that I'm a wasting-, 

An' could otherwise employ, 
Fer after all is said an' done 

I'm jest a boy. 

I ain't never had no wishin' 

Fer to glorify my name, 
N'er I ain't got no hankcrin' 

Fer any worldly fame. 
I'm satisfied jest as I be 

With nothin' to annoy, 
Wuss'n ])rol)'ly gittin' hungr}^ fer 

I'm jest a boy. 

I'll own I am twenty-six t' day 

An' folks '11 Icll you I'm 
A good fer nothin' feller 

An' a loafin' all the time. 
])Ut I ain't no reputation 

Fer them folks to destroy, 
l^'er it happens, 1 ain't nothin' 

IWit jest a boy. 



70 



I don't envy them that's got 

Their reputation made. 
An's up there on th' hill of fame 

A baskin' in th' shade. 
The joys of wealth I've noticed 

Sometimes has a bad alloy, 
An' I reckon I'm contented 

I'm jest a boy. 

The medder's jest as green fer me, 

The birds sing jest as clear 
T'day, as they did yesterday, 

Er way back fifteen year. 
I'm glad t' get the little things 

O' life, an' know the joy 
O' rustic health, an' also that 

I'm jest a boy. 



71 



IDv 01' man 

They's a' ol' man lives nex' t' us, 

Wite over our back fence. 

He's such a goody-good ol' man — 

He gimme wunst fi' cents, 

An' some days when he's workin', 

In his garden patch I'll frow 

A stone at him to scare him. 

All 'ist in fun you know, 

'Xen he'll look my way, 

An' jump and say, 

"Hey there ! Hey there ! Young feller, look out ! 

Hey there ! young feller, see whatcher about. 

Y' better come over an' beg my pardon. 

Just see what you've done t' my new garden, 

Hey there ! young feller, look out." 

He's got th' nices' garden patch, 

All full of flowers an' things. 

An' little beds o' pansies. 

All planted round in rings. 

An' wunst I climbed an' stealed, 

(Did it 'ist in fun, y' know). 

Up where he had his barrow wheeled, 

An' tipped it over on his toe. 



72 



'Nen he looked my way, 

An' jump and say, 

"Hey there ! Hey there ! Young feller, look out ! 

Hey there ! young feller, see whatcher about. 

Y' better come over an' beg my pardon, 

Just see what you've done t' my new garden. 

Hey there ! young feller, look out." 

One day they wuz a fun'ral. 

In his house, nex' t' ours. 

An' my ma cried, an' carried o'er 

A big white bunch o' flowers, 

An' I've been 'ist as lonesome 

As could be, ever sence. 

An' some days I'll go out, an' set. 

An' wish, on our back fence, 

'At he'd look my way. 

An' jump and say, 

"Hey there ! Hey there ! Young feller, look out ! 

Hey there ! young feller, see whatcher about. 

Y' better come over an' beg my pardon. 

Just see what you've done t' my new garden, 

Hey there ! young feller, look out." 



73 



(Xlaititiis Foit His Siocetbcant 

When (Ic nii^ht'n'galc am singin' 
An' do silv'ry moon am flingin', 

Her beams erroun' dc trees; 

When (le sparklin' dews am fallin" 

An' de katydids am callin', 
I'se waitin' fo' yo', Louise. 

T'se waitin' in de shadder 

()1) de gum tree in de medder, 

Dats rustlin' in de l)reeze ; 
An' de oV owl am a hootin', 

An' de 1)lack 1)at am a scootin,' 
Ain' yo' gwine hurry uj), Louise? 

Now I hear yo' voice a hummin', 
An' I know yo' is a comin', 

Des Hke de summer breeze ; 
Now I see yo' come a ski]>pin' 

An' a dancin' an' a trippin,' 
JMighty glad yo' here, Louise. 



74 



B Riddle 

Little guess you how these lines, 

Carelessly composed here, 

Laud a maiden whom I know 

Who reads her name reposed here. 

From artless observation 'tis 

Concealed beyond a doubt here ; 

Yet a careful scrutiny. 

Shall find it in about here. 

Her rosebud lips and raven hair 

And figure lithe and slender, 

And the love-light of her eyes 

Have dazed me by their splendor. 

Her gentle way, regardless of 

A person's reputation, 

Her kind smile and her sweet young face, 

They fill me with elation. 

And so I've written here her name 

And carefully I've rhymed it. 

And so well it is concealed 

I defy the world to find it. 



75 



Life 

The years will come and the years will go, 

Soft zephers sigh, and chill winds blow. 

Man shall be born, and man shall die, 

As has been in all past history. 

And during the intervening time, 

Twixt birth and death, he'll drink and dine. 

Go down to poverty, or up to wealth, 

Have days of illness, and days of health, 

He'll go into business, or work at a trade, 

He'll fall in love with some sweet maid, 

He'll woo to win, or he'll woo to lose. 

It's a question of chance as every one knows. 

He'll have a home and children and wife. 

Or remain a bachelor all of his life. 

If the former, he'll get a preliminary style 

Of the place he'll land at after while. 

Or if it's the latter, why then he'll think 

That he's been slighted, and take to drink. 

And so down the river of life he'll go 

Riding the side where the chill winds blow. 

Always jiushing the wrong canoe. 

Over the joys that he thought he knew. 

While the birds sang sweet and the zephers sighed 

Over there on the opposite side. 

liill made a fortune, Bob got a wife, 

Joe stayed a bachelor all of his life. 

70 



"Lucky cuss" each of them, each says so. 

Bill to Bob and Bob to Joe, 

While Joe the acme of luck, to Bob, 

Bows his head with a broken sob. 

Envies the luck of the other men, 

And silently broods what might have been. 



77 



UJhat De Use 

What (Ic use to worry, wlion yo' ])ants wear 

tliroui^ii, 
or woman gwine to patch 'em, so dey jes' es good 

cs new ; 
What clc use ob frettin' when de fish won't bite, 
Bound ter git a 'possom, when de moon shine 

bright. 

AMiat de use to worr}- 'bout de Trusts an' ring, 
Ain' no Trust (lisi)utin' (Hs nigger's right to sing; 
What de use ol) frettin' when de worhl go wrong, 
Ef \'o' feel a I'il grumpy, jes' sing' a I'il song. 

Dis world am full ob trouble ef yo' lookin' fo' it l)(\v, 
Dut yo'll also find by lookin' clat she jest chuck ful 

ob joy. 
So what de use ob frettin' w hen }()' luck seem tough, 
She gwine be all right bime bye, 'f yo' jest wail 

long enough. 



78 



my L'fl Tiny Gal 

De roses sigh when she go by, 

My Til Tiny gal, 
An de daisies hoi' der heads up high, 

My I'il Tiny gal, 
De ol' sun stare when he see her hair 
An' he say to hisself, "Well, I declare. 
If dat ain't night a-right down dare," 

My I'il Tiny g'al. 

De souf wind stop when she come 'long. 

My I'il Tiny gal, 
De nig'ht'n'gale sing his sweetes' song. 

My I'il Tiny gal. 
When de ol' moon look, she so su'prise, 
Say, "Dey ain't no use fo' de stars to rise, 
Fo' de can't outshine dem sparklin' eyes," 

My I'il Tiny g'al. 

De sea waves play when she come dat way, 

My I'il Tiny gal. 
An' dey say she sweet as de summer day, 

My I'il Tiny gal, 
or Neptune he hoi' up his han' 
'^n' he look at her an' say, "My Ian' ! 
Ef dat ain't Venus on de san," 

My I'll Tiny gal. 



79 



Yo' Unc' Douglas' Gtteetln*$ 

Wish yo' Merry Chris'mus 

An' cr Happy New Yeah; 
Jolly time a comin' 

An' hits putty nearly heah. 
( )r Santy's shuah hikin 

An' I know he on de way, 
Cayse he call me np an' tol' me 

On de phone de uddah day. 

He say yo' needn' list'n 

Fo' de sleigh bells eny mo'; 
Nor ter heah de reindeah trom])in', 

Cayse he disserpoint yo' sho'. 
Want ter list'n fo' er whistle 

An' de gratin' of er wheel, 
Cayse he writ me dat he comin' 

In er autermobeel. 

He tol' me 'bout some presents 

Dat's er gwine ter make yo' stare; 
But I promised not ter tell hit, 

So of coes' I doesn't dare ; 
Tol' me 'bout some li'l gals. 

An' bad bad li'l boys; 
An' say, ef (ley don't done behave 

Dey don't git eny toys. 



80 



I'se out las' night er talkin' 

To ol' Hoot Owl in de tree. 
Who's er pus'nal frien' of Santy's 

An' er pus'nal frien' of me. 
An' he prognos'cate de weathah 

Gwine to change some that-a-way, 
So dat time dat Chris'mus git heah 

We'se be ready fo' de sleigh. 

An' I talk wif Mistah Raccoon, 

Who 'tiz totin' of er load ; 
An' he say dey heaps of turkeys 

In de coops er long de road. 
An' he tol' me 'bout some pullets 

Dat 'uz lookin' mighty fine ; 
So I reckon how dat somer 

Dem dare pullets gwine be mine. 

An' I talk wif Mistah Rabbit, 

An' I talk wif ol' Jay Bird ; 

An' dey tell me dat dis Chris'mus 

Be de bigges' evah heard. 
An' we all jines in t'gethah 

Wif er ha'ty good cheah ; 
An' we wish yo' Merry Chris'mus 

An' er Happy New Yeah. 



81 



Tbc 3a$on $u)amp niuskectci? 

Wunst a city feller come t' our house t' board. 
We live six miles from S]Mmkville, rig^lit up near 

Jason's ford. 
He said he needed country air an' country grub an' 

stuff, 
An' showed us what his doctor wrote t* certify th' 

bluff. 

A\'e ain't much room in our house, so ma told him 

if he 
AN'a'n't over much particler why, she'd have him 

sleep with me. 
He said he'd rather sleep alone, but then, o' course 

if it 
\\^iz goin' t' over-crowd us wdiy he wouldn't mind 

a bit. 

Th' fun begun that very night, most soon's we got 

t' bed, 
When a Jason swamp muskeeter come a-buzzin* 

'round his head, 
An' buzzed around' an' buzzed aroun' an' buzzed 

aroun' until 
That feller set right up in bed an' jest let out a yciI. 

An' grabbed an' slapped, an' slapped an' grabbed, 

an' grabbed agin, till I 
Jest had t' git t' laffin' an' I laffed most fit t' die. 



82 



An' then he jumped clean outer bed an' grabbed a 

book an' he 
Allowed he'd ketch that pesky thing an' smash it 

up, b'gee. 

An' then he lit out with his book an' slammed it 

'ginst th' wall. 
But that 'er dum muskeeter went a-buzzin' through 

it all. 
Then he grabbed th' bed sheet an' swished it up 

an' down, 
But that 'er blamed muskeeter jest went buzzin' 

roun' an' roun'. 

He smashed th' lamp an' chimney, th' fable an' him- 
self, 

An' a lot o' rickety-doodles that wuz a settin' on 
th' shelf; 

He aimed a swipe at nowhere, an' then he stopped 
t' hear. 

An' that gol-darn muskeeter 'ud be buzzin' in his 
ear. 

An' so he kept th' racket up fer purty nigh a hour, 
Tryin' t' kill that dum muskeeter all ways 'twas in 

his power. 
Till finally he petered out, and sot down on th' 

floor ; 
Then that Jason swamp muskeeter went a buzzin' 

out th' door. 



83 



An' th' last we seed o' tlial air city feller wnz nex' 

day 
When' as soon's he'd finished breakfast he started 

right away 
An' went a pikin' down th' road, straight fer th' 

city line, 
With that Jason swamp miiskeeter a buzzin' 'long 

behin'. 



84 



Uncle lke^$ Sioim 

See them young fellers splashin'? 

S'pose they think their swimmin' now ; 
Pshaw, I'd like to jest undress 

And go an' show 'em how ; 
But Liza says I musn't 

'Cause (she says) I'm gettin' old ; 
Pshaw — but, then, I kind o' guesr 

The water's still too cold. 

But jest wait a little longer 

Till the water's warmer yet. 
An' I'll show them young fellers 

What swimmin' is, you bet ; 
An' I don't care what Liza says 

'Bout me a gittin' old — 
I'd like to show them boys right now, 

But — the water's too dum cold. 

I've swum these waters man an' boy, 

For more than forty year; 
An' I know every stone an' stump 

In this here river here. 
An' that's all bosh what Liza says 

'Bout me a gittin' old, 
I ain't, an lemme see — why no. 

This water ain't so cold. 



85 



I) 'gosh, i'm i^oiiv to try it, 

An' Liza she can jest 
Jaw all she blame pleases, 

Cause I guess that I know best. 
Can't understand what makes her think 

That I'm a gittin' old; 
Jest cause my hair's a little thin, 

No sign my feet are cold. 

Ouch!! b-r-r-r ! — Oh, lawsy ! Wow! 

Hey there, you fellers there, 
Jest stop yer gol darn laughin' 

An' help me out o' here. 
B-r-r-r — by jumpin' jingo, but 

That water's cussed cold — 
— Guess my Liza knows her biz, 

I guess I'm gittin' old. 



86 



Bent 

His name is Bert ; 
Begrimed is his shirt, 

And tattered his pants and coat, 
And he wears a smile 
Like a cankerous bile 

As I've frequently taken note ; 
He comes down the pike 
With a kangaroo hike, 

And a whistle that's always dry. 
And that cankerous grin. 
With the sides dented in. 

And a moon struck gaze in his e3^e. 

There's a frisky r'ar 
To his greaser hair. 

That never connects with the shears, 
And the bloom of the rose 
In his bibulous nose, 

And a wigglety wag' to his ears ; 
There's a rubbery curve, 
And a sinuous swerve 

Where his head and body meet. 
And a curvature stoop. 
And a far reaching snoop, 

And a frivolous shake to his feet. 



87 



He's never too late 

To lii^ht out on a freight, 

lie lra\els the roads for fair; 
Me ean slumber and dream 
On a bouncing break beam, 

And plenty of soom to spare. 
He has wonderful luck. 
At 1)uinniing his chuck, 

A back door he never will shirk. 
Tho' he lives like a king. 
It's a singular thing, 

That he's never been caug;ht doing work. 

When he ventures to sleep, 
The elements leap 

And dance to his thunderous roar ; 
There was never a blow, 
Or a volcano. 

That could equal that terrible snore. 
Yes, Jjert is his name. 
And regarding the same, 

When you hear it you want to watch out 
Don't give him a chance 
To connect with your pants, 

Or he'll touch you, there's nary a doubt. 



88 



01' Kit 

Yes, sir, stranger, tell yo' she 

'S th' smartest horse yo' ever see. 

Once one year when crops was pore, 

I was up agin it sure. 

Meanest year I ever seen, 

Didn't even raise a bean ; 

Looked like poor house er th' ja-il, 

So I held an auction sale. 

Had the printer print some bills 
All decorated 'roun' with frills, 
An' advertised to sell our cow. 
Four little pig's an' our ol' sow, 
Ten head o' sheep, an' pair o' ox, 
A set o' wheels, an' wagon box, 
An' tho' I sort o' hated it. 
Advertised to sell ol' kit. 

I had owned her then purt nigh 
Fifteen year, an' I thinks I 
She's most worn out, an' ol, an' so 
I guessed I'd better let her go. 
She was a mighty good horse tho,' 
Mebby jest a little slow. 
But jest as smart as she could be, 
An' I knowed her, an' she knowed me. 



89 



Alius give a kind o' snort, 

Soci'ble like, as if she sort 

C)' said, "Good mornin' pard," when I'd 

Come out t' hitch her fer a ride. 

Knowin'st critter ever was. 

Never had ter tie her, cause 

She'd sure stand. An' didn't scare 

O' steam cars, er seem t' care 

A single whoop fer anything 

That flew on wheels, er on the wing. 

An' she knowed every word I'd say, 
Fer instance, I'd say, **Kit, t' day 
We'll drive out an' visit Jim, 
An' spend the afternoon with him ; 
An' I'll jest turn you out, my lass, 
Ter get a chaw o' medder grass." 
Then she'd prick her ears up straight 
An' hike out like a man that's late 
T' catch his train, an' never stop 
'Til she'd got there, sure as pop. 

But now she's gettin' ol', thinks I, 
She'll be useless by an' bye. 
An' tho' I hated like Sam Hill, 
I put her down on that blame bill. 
Tacked two bills up in the store, 



90 



An' long th' road I tacked some more 
On telegraph poles, so folks could tell 
Jest what it was I had to sell. 
An' t' make th' blam.e thing sure, 
Tacked one up on our barn door. 

Well, while I was tackin' that, 
Something kind o' tipped my hat. 
An' glancin' 'roun' I saw that Kit 
Was lookin' sort o' hard at it. 
Kit she couldn't read o' course, 
(Couldn't 'spect it o' a horse.) 
But, stranger, when she see that bill 
She jest eyed it kind o' still, 
Purt nigh a minute, an' then she 
Turned aroun' an' looked at me. 

'An' mister, I'm right here t' swear 
On that look. Why, I declare. 
No use o' talkin', it was jest 
About the most reproachfullest 
Tever saw. Why, I'll be blowed, 
I ain't a doubt but what she knowed 
Exactly jest what that bill read, 
I felt so cheap I hung my head. 

Looked at me — an' stranger, I 
Jest couldn't look her in the eye. 
An then she come an' rubbed her nose 
All aroun' on my ol' clothes, 



91 



An' sort o' wiggle wagged her ears, 
An', by ginger, they was tears 
In her old eyes, on that I'll swear, 
1 know because I saw thcni there. 

Made me feel so dog gone cheap. 
When I seen that ol' horse w^eep, 
Had ter weep myself, er swear, 
An' I did, right then an' there ; 
Jest let right out strong an' sw^orc 
An' snatched that bill right off th' door. 
Jumped on th' cart, an' said,' "Kit. les' 
Go right straight back an' git tli' rest." 

An', by gosh, when I said that 
You'd oughter seen that ol' horse scat. 
Down the road she went ker whiz — 
Reckon how she knowed her biz, 
Far when we come to that first bill 
She jest stopped herself dead still, 
Reached right out an' snatched it clean 
Right off that pole as slick's a bean. 
Did it with her teeth, by gosh, 
( >h, you kin laugh, it ain't no josh. 

Yes, I held that auction sale, 
Had ter do it sure, er fail ; 
But you kin bet yer bottom bit 
That T didn't sell ol' Kit ; 
An' in spring time, er lli' fall. 



92 



Summer, winter, snow an' all, ! 

You kin see us drivin' 'roun' ^ 

In th' country er th' town. 

Satisfied as we kin be -j 

That we are, ol' Kit an' me. \ 



93 



rHy Choice 

Sonic folks I know like city life, 
With its ever lastin' noise an' strife; 
An' its dust, an' over powerin' heat, 
Some think tlr city can't be beat. 

Jiut I'll take th' big north woods fer mine, 
Along with th' deer an' th' porcupine. 
An' th' ol' log shack, an' th' spruce bough bed, 
An' th' ol' smoked rafters over head. 

I'll follow th' trail at early dawn, 

O' th' timid deer, an' th' spotted fawn. 

Where th' shadows are deep, an' cool, an' rare, 

With th' breath o' th' pines in th' mornin' air. 

I'll follow th' line o' th' timbered shore, 

Aroun' th' lake, where th' fish hawks soar, 

Down by th' dam where th' beaver works, 

An' th' shady pools where th' brook trout lurks. 

An' in th' dusk I'll wander back 
Ter th' shelterin' roof o' th' ol' log shack, 
An' set by th' fire, an' smoke, an' dream, 
An' listen again t' th' Bob cats scream. 



U4 



Some folks say city life is best. 
They say that there they are happiest; 
Well, that's their choice, so let it be, 
But th' big pine woods is th' place fer me. 



95 



fls Wvs. UMqqs Says 

''Looks like everything in the world comes right 

If we jes' wait long enough," 
Altho' there's times in a feller's life 

When things looks mighty tough; 
But I guess what Mrs. Wiggs says is right, 

Tho' I never thought before ; 
But had figured it out through my sore foot 

That the hull blamed world wuz sore. 

But she seemed ter think when her trouble come, 

That it ought ter be jes' so ; 
(An I know some folks who growl at th' rain 

That makes th' flowers grow ;) 
An' I guess Mrs. Wiggs has got it right, 

An' I guess I'll try a spell 
C seein' th' heaven side o' things, 

Instead o' seein' hell. 



96 



The Optimist 

When ills crops went wrong he didn't blame 

The weather man for that; 

When he lost eight cows in a poker game 

He grinned and took his hat, 

And said as he wandered out the door, 

*'I'll buckl'e in and earn some more." 

When a cyclone came along one day 

Quite sudden like an' blew 

The ol' farm house where he lived away 

An' the barn an' hen coop too, 

He says to me with a feeble grin, 

"I guess I kin build 'em up agin." 

An' I 'member once on a nice spring day 
When everything seemed just right, 
That his hogs all died of the cholera 
And he buried 'em all that night ; 
And he said as he gazed in the empty pen, 
''Well, it ain't so bad as it might a been." 

And the day that the ol' bull histed him 

Clean over the pasture lot. 

An' broke his arm an' his good right lim' 

An' we strapped him on a cot. 

He smiled at me an' he says again, 

''Well, tain't so bad as it might a been." 



97 



He never cried an' he never sighed 

When his troubles came along, 

He even laughed when his ol' nuile died 

An' hummed a little song, 

"An' he says to me quite cheerfully, 

"Things ain't so bad as things might be." 

On a rainy day he used to say, 

"I ain't no room for sorrow, 

Ef the sun don't shine like she ought today 

She'll mebby shine tomorrow; 

They ain't no use fer to fret an' stew 

Jest count your blessin's — don't get blue." 



98 



IDv Bosses 

I've hit the trail in th' big woods, 

An' I've camped in the big wood shacks, 
An' I've took my turn at swingin' an ax 

With th' rest o' th' lumber jacks. 
An' my boss was a big, black, roarin' 

An' cussin' French Canuck, 
Who cussed his men with a right good will 

An' cussed 'em agin fer luck. 

I've followed th' Four X round up 

From Wind River to Cheyenne ; 
An' slept with th' sky fer a bed quilt 

On th' ground o' th' Big Horn plain. 
An' my boss was a red head Irisher, 

With a voice like a locoed steer. 
An' th' cuss o' him had a go an' vim 

That would do you good to hear. 

I've worked my shift in a copper drift. 

At th' fortieth level down, 
An' I've done my trick with a drill an' pick. 

An' I've pushed th' tram car 'roun. 
An' my boss was a big, fat Polock, 

Who jawed in his native tongue, 
An' th' cuss o' him made your eyes grow dim, 

So pathetic and sweet it rung. 

99 LOfC. 



An' th' man that's a tellings this story, 

(Otherwise known as me), 
Is at present employed a-working 

In a Michigan factory. 
An' my boss is a sweet, young critter, 

A mild-eyed, little gazelle. 
An' I ain't heard her swear since I've been there, 

An' don't reckon I ever will. 

Yes, I am th' ring-tailed snorter^, 

Right out o' th' woolly west. 
With a bowie knife down in my bootleg 

An' a forty-four under my vQSt. 
Me who's wolloped a bronco 

From th' Bitter Creek range to Cal., 
Is a workin' at civilized labor 

An' being bossed by a gal. 



100 



101 



Cbc Ye$tcndav$ 

Down in the vistas of far away, 

Back in the vale of memory, 

Where a little boy sings as a little boy plays, 

Is the cherished realm of yesterdays. 

Down by the mill, beside the brook, 
With a tangled line and a fishing hook, 
Barefoot and happy the little boy strays 
Over th^ paths of yesterdays. 

Over the meadow and through the wood. 
To the mossy bank where the old tree stood. 
The little boy splashes the silver sprays. 
In the dreamy stream of yesterdays. 

In an old straw hat that belonged to pap. 
And his pants held up with an old skate strap. 
The little boy shouts by the bonfire's blaze, 
And revels in joys of yesterdays. 

Rolling around in the orchard grass 
The little boy watches the honeybees pass 
From tree to tree, where the blossoming sprays 
Scent the warm spring air of yesterdays. 



Oh, I long to go back to the yesterdays, 
To the home I knew and the old pathways ; 
Back where the sunlight softly plays 
On the golden days, the yesterdays. 



102 



lUateitmelon Time 

De day was hot an' dusty 

An' de ol' mule he was tia'd 
An' up dar on de wagon 

Uncle Douglas he puspiahed, 
An' he kep' a grumblin', grumblin' 

'Bout de hotness ob de day, 
Say he don' know why de weathah 

Keep a actin' dat a way. 

Den he wipe his brow an' squinted 

Down de roadway to de fence 
On the Gunnel Johnson' prop'ty 

Where de co'n fiel' it commence 
An' see sompin' green an' shiny 

Dar a hangin' on a vine, 
An' he lift his head an' hollah 

Dat its watah melon time. 

An' he ain' do no mo' grumblin' 

Des set right up an' sing 
Lak de lark out in de medder 

Er de robin in de spring. 
Yassir, dat 'ere Uncle Douglas 

Got ter feelin' mighty fine, 
Cayse he know de time ob weathah 

Was de watah melon time. 



103 



An' dat night, when de moonlight 

Sort o' sneak behin' er cloud, 
Uncle Douglas go a creepin' 

Lak he feared ter walk out loud, 
Where dem melons was a baskin' 

In de coolness ob de dew. 
An' he grab a great big feller 

Underneaf his a'm an' flew, 

Den Uncle Douglas squat down 

In de shadder ob de co'n 
An' he ain' feel so happy 

Sence de day dat he was bo'n, 
An' he whisper ter hisse'f like 

As he bite down to de rine, 
"Dey ain' no time ob weathah 

Lak de watah melon time." 



m 



OCT 12 190 



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